


Shadows and Dust

by The_Eldritch_IT_Gay



Series: Life of a Ghost [2]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: @ drabblewatch discord: i'm sorry, Angst, Blackwatch, Gen, Hurt No Comfort, Misgendering, Suicidal Thoughts, Swearing, Talon - Freeform, Torture, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-28
Updated: 2016-10-28
Packaged: 2018-08-27 14:50:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8405875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Eldritch_IT_Gay/pseuds/The_Eldritch_IT_Gay
Summary: They were suddenly aware of the barrel gun pressing to their temple, and something about it was so comforting. Please, they thought, Kill me. At least give me a noble death… The gun cocked and they visibly relaxed, mentally reciting the prayer their birth mother had taught them. Breathing deeply, they could almost smell the crisp mountain air of their home- almost feel the cool breeze blowing through their hair. As their prayer neared it’s end, they waited patiently for the bullet.





	

They weren't sure how long it had been, or how long they'd been awake. There was no light in the room that they could see, their only way of telling the passage of time was when the men were in the room. Sometimes they came in and injected them with something that made it feel like their veins were burning and every nerve in their body was on fire; other times they were awoken to a knife digging into their skin. When the door to the room opened and they saw a group of men coming in, they could feel bile rising in the back of their throat. 

A knife trailed down their face- just hard enough to fill them with fear when it neared their only working eye. 

“Morning sweetheart,” The man with the knife- Victor, as his friends had called him- smiled, “Are you gonna play nice today?”

They didn't respond, staring stoically at the wall instead of giving an answer. Making an angry noise, Victor pressed the knife hard into the skin by their eye. They couldn't help their cry of pain as they felt the blade break the sensitive skin. 

“There we go, still alive huh? Why don’t you help me out then…”

The gag in their mouth came loose and they immediately took a deep, shuddering breath. They glanced around the room instinctively- to get a read on their captors, to look for the best escape route, to find weak points. Closing their eyes, they stopped, reminding themselves that there was no point. 

“Now… “ Victor pulled up files on their data pad, showing them to Malik. Each one was corrupted, encrypted, or missing information. “These look familiar to you?”

They shrugged the best they could with the restraints they were in.

“No se nada, they look pretty fucked up to me.”

One of the men behind them was quick to ram the butt of his gun into the back or their head. Crying out, they tried to hunch forward and away from him, but they didn’t get far before they felt a knife pressing into their throat.

“Don’t be smart with me, or I’ll cut that smart ass mouth of yours.”

They straightened up slowly, looking Victor dead in the eye.

“Do it then, let’s see how you get your information with my mouth cut up.”

Growling, Victor punched them square in the face, their nose breaking under the force and blood gushing from it.

“Give. Us. The. Files.”

They spat the blood out of their mouth, and shook their head.

“I don’t have the files, it’s not my fault the ones you got are corrupted to shit.” 

A knife was suddenly pressing into the knuckle of their index finger, hard enough to draw blood. Malik’s eyes widened, and they clenched their jaw. They tried taking deep breaths, preparing themselves for the pain.

“We need the information from those files, so you better start talking or you’re going to start losing fingers.”

“If you think I can read those files you’re mistaken, you might as well have given me a file in ancient sumerian.” 

“Suit yourself.” Victor grinned, lifting up the knife, only to slam the tip of the knife through their knuckle.

Hot tears welled up as they screamed, futilely trying to pull their hand away. He paid no mind to their screaming and writhing, twisting the knife, face impassive as their bone shattered and cracked. Blood pooled under their hand and Victor grabbed the end of their index finger and yanked. The little skin and muscle that was still attached to the finger ripped away, another raw scream tearing out of their throat. Victor tossed their finger to the side and looked down on their shaking form, scoffing, he slapped them across the face. 

“Stop blubbering.” He commanded, “Now, tell me what's in the files.”

They sniffed, biting their lip to hold back their pained cries. When Victor picked up his knife again, they froze. 

“They're Overwatch files,” They pointed out. 

“We knew that much, mutt. Tell us what's in the files. Even if you can't read them, we know you're known for hacking and cryptography so you can tell us something.”

“No.”

They barely managed to hold down their next scream as Victor slammed the knife into the knuckle of their middle finger. The sickening cracking sound of the blade shattering bone and the the pain was almost enough to make them throw up. 

“You're stubborn,” He pointed out as he made quick work of cutting off the finger, “Losing fingers because you don't wanna talk about the organization you hate.”

“Fuck off, I'm not about to tell you Overwatch secrets” They spat. 

One of the men behind them grabbed their hair and yanked them back, leaning close to their ear. 

“Overwatch is dead, girl, no ones gonna persecute you for giving their secrets anymore.”

Malik froze, eyes wide. 

“You're lying…” They muttered, uncertainty creeping into their voice. 

The man chuckled, “You know we're not… So spill.”

“No, fuck off.”

They had expected it this time- the knife ramming into another one of their knuckles. Biting their lip hard, they managed to just barely hold back their pained whimpers. 

“Why do you care so much about an organization that hates you?”

They tried their best to stay silent, but after another stinging slap to their face, and the knife moving to press into another knuckle, they opened their mouth.

“Overwatch can burn in hell for all I care. But betraying Overwatch means betraying Blackwatch, and I’d rather die than put them at risk.” 

“Some of your ‘friends’ don’t seem to share the same sentiment… how do you think we got these files, hm?”

“Fuck you, I don’t care what you say, we always had each other’s back. So you can burn in hell along with Overwatch I’m not going to tell you fucking anything. Go fuck yourse-”

The gag was quickly shoved back into their mouth as the knife went to work on their 4th finger. Even with the gagged, their cries were all to audible. Blackness started creeping into the edge of their vision, brain fogging from the pain and continued blows to their head. All sense of time slipped away along with their lucidness, they were only barely able to register the tip of a blade pressing against yet another knuckle, when suddenly, it all stopped. The knife was gone, as were the hands in their hair, and the laughter. 

“ _ Just what do you think you’re doing? _ ” A sinister gravelly voice snarled.

“It’s been months, boss, she’s not letting up. Something’s gotta change.” Victor replied nonchalantly.

They were suddenly aware of the barrel gun pressing to their temple, and something about it was so comforting.  _ Please _ , they thought,  _ Kill me. At least give me a noble death…  _ The gun cocked and they visibly relaxed, mentally reciting the prayer their birth mother had taught them. Breathing deeply, they could almost smell the crisp mountain air of their home- almost feel the cool breeze blowing through their hair. As their prayer neared it’s end, they waited patiently for the bullet. 

But it never came, instead, they heard something clatter to the ground, and a low grunt. They didn’t open their eyes, still hoping for a bullet through the head. Slowly, they noticed a cool, soft, feather light sensation creeping up their body. When it reached their face, it suddenly felt more solid as it caressed their face. Opening their eyes weakly, they immediately saw a dark figure standing in front of them, a bone white mask on the figure’s face. His form seemed to almost waver, and they noticed how shadowy tendrils were extending from his form, one of which was the thing caressing their face. It pushed the blood-matted hair out of their face before slipping down their arms, returning to a mist-like form and settling over their knuckles.

“So you thought you’d cut of their fingers?” The man growled.

Victor made an annoyed sound, “They’re useless, why do you care if they live or not. Another Overwatch mutt dead and no one’s any the wiser.”

As the mist lingered on their bleeding hands, the pain faded slightly, replaced with a numb, tingling sensation. He was helping them, they realized with a shock, and their eyes narrowed as best they could.  _ No one helps without a motive… _

“Oh, but they aren’t Overwatch. They were Blackwatch, which makes them much more valuable…” The man mused.

“So? What makes them so valuable- Doesn’t matter if they’ve got Blackwatch training or not. They’re not gonna give us any information. They’re pretty useless.”

“Without fingers, they  _ are  _ useless,” The man turned sharply to face Victor, they could faintly make out glowing red eyes behind the mask.

“They still have 6 fingers!” Victor protested, but their was a hint of fear creeping into his voice.

The man pointed at their left hand, voice full of rage, “Their pinkie and ring finger on that hand are paralyzed, now their only  _ working  _ finger on that hand is their  _ thumb. _ ”

Malik’s eyes widened, staring at the man. How did he know about their paralyzed fingers? That had happened when they were  _ 14 _ , and there was no record of it in Overwatch’s database. They knew for a fact, that after the accident, Reyes had ordered the records of the incident be erased. The erasure was thorough, the Blackwatch intelligence department had made sure of that. Not many of Malik’s friends even remembered it, though it had been what made them stand out to Reyes. Despite nearly dying in the process and paralyzing their fingers, when they were 14 they- while unarmed- took down a Blackwatch agent. How did this Talon operative know about that? The only people who knew were-

They were pulled from their thoughts and nearly jumped out of their skin when one of the men picked up their left hand. It hurt, the burns on on the arm and the lacerations had only just barely healed, they clenched their jaw as many of the wounds reopened. Their left eye was blind, as far as they could tell, so it was hard to see what the man was doing, but they could just managed to make out the sight of their paralyzed fingers curled slightly and limp.

“How was I supposed to know that, Reaper?” 

The man- Reaper- turned back to Malik red eyes staring into their hazy ones. 

“Sólo mátame,” They pleaded, “Blackwatch es mi familia, me moriría antes traiciono a mi familia…” 

_ [Just kill me, Blackwatch is my family, I would die before I betray my family.] _

They swore his mist stop moving for a second, but it might have been their imagination, the delirium, or blood loss. Victor looked between them and Reaper for a moment, confusion clear on his face.

“What’d they say?” 

Making an annoyed sound, Reaper glared at him.

“Nothing coherent, thanks to  _ you _ .”

A tendril quickly shot out and wrapped around Victor’s neck, lifting him off the ground slightly. Gliding over to stand in front of him, Reaper growled.

“If you want your soul to stay inside your body, I’d suggest you and your friends go down to the med bay and make sure they’re ready to help this ingrate. One of you talk to the cybernetics department as well.”

The mist released Victor and he nodded quickly, motioning for his friends to leave the room.

“B-before I go,” Victor started, voice hoarse, “Why the cybernetics department?”

Reaper remained silent, but they could see his mist move and felt their hair brush over their shoulder. Eyes widening, Victor paled visible, quickly stuttering.

“I swear I didn’t do that, she was like that when she came-”

He didn’t even finish his sentence before he was slammed into the wall again, this time by Reaper himself. They could see his clawed hand digging into Victor’s throat, the mist smothering his face. Suddenly, Malik’s blurred and faded out, but not before they heard Victor’s muffled screams and sickening noises.

When they came to again, their mind was still foggy and their body begged to fall unconscious again. Before they could, a calloused hand gripped their chin, tipping it up to make them look at him. They could faintly make out red eyes and dark skin through their blurry vision.

“Dios mío, chico,” A deep voice murmured, “They really left you in bad shape.”

Even in their altered state, they knew that voice. It was a voice they had been hearing since they were 14. But it couldn’t be him, they were at Talon, last they remembered. Faintly, they could remember pain and confusion.  _ I’m hallucinating,  _ they thought.

“Gabí…” They whimpered weakly.

He sighed, brushing his thumb along their cheek for a moment before pulling his hand away. Whimpering again, they tried to move, but cried out in pain before they could even move. Fear set in when they found themselves unable to move most of their body. 

“Cabron…” He muttered, “You’re hurt, don’t move much, you’re making it worse for yourself.”

“Wh..what happened… why can’t I move anything?”

“From what it looks like, your spine is snapped and dislocated in a few places, there’s an infection setting in from the burns and amputations.  _ So stop moving. _ ”

“Am I going to die?”

Sighing again, he eyed them wearily, rubbing his temples.

“No. But you’re going to wish you were, thanks to me.”

“I’m sure you’re only doing what you have to. It’s what we always did,” They slurred sleepily.

There was a few moments of silence, and Malik almost feared he left them- that they were truly alone again. But they heard a quiet sigh.

“You’re not in Blackwatch anymore… This is Talon.”

Malik went quiet for a while, thoughts suddenly filled with memories of what happened to Amelie- and what she had done to Gerard. They had met Gerard and Amelie before it happened, and despite not having spent a lot of time with either of them, it was still terrifying to learn what happened when Talon got their hands on Amelie. Even their pain hazed mind could understand what was going to happen. 

“T-they..going to-.....like… like- like what happened to…. T-to Amelie?” 

“Yeah…” He said after a moment, “You’re part of Talon now whether you want to or not.”

They held back their scared noises, trembling as the reality settled in. Overwatch was dead, Blackwatch long gone, and now they were going to be forcibly made into a Talon agent. Everything they had worked for their entire life was gone- their family, their friends, their home, everything they had ever known, it was all gone. Jian, Kallista, Lyuda, Genji, Jesse, Mikael, Natalie, Hayden, Idoya- and so many more- they would never see any of them again. Even if they did, they would be working against them, they might not even  _ remember _ them. Tears silently started streaming down their face.

“They’re gonna come back and take you any minute now. As soon as you’re stable, it’ll start. Try not to fight it, it’ll just be worse if you do.” 

They saw him start to move over to the door, and the panic finally set in. 

“Wait- no-  _ please! _ Don’t leave me yet… I-”

Sighing, Gabe turned back to face them, taking in their appearance. Covered in blood and sweat, eyes glassy, haphazard, discolored stitches littering their skin, trembling, hair matted. 

“What do think I can do?” He spat, “I’m the one who’s opted for you to be brainwashed and turned into a terrorist. What can I possibly do for you?” 

They cowered at his outburst, averting their eyes, tremble more pronounced. 

“P-please…” They whimpered, “Before they come… c-cut off my hair…”

“Tch…  _ why _ ?”

“J-just… please…” 

He just glared at them for a few moments, before he huffed and walked back behind them. Pulling out a knife, he grabbed a small section of their hair and started sawing through it. It pulled their hair painfully, but they remained silent as he slowly hacked of clumps of their hair. 

“In… in my mother’s culture… cutting hair is symbolic…” They stuttered softly. 

He sighed, muttering, “You always were loyal to that side of your heritage…”

“Cutting your hair… modernly symbolizes forgetting the past … and started a new… in ancient times… it symbolized being rejected or exiled from your home…" 

Pausing his cutting for a moment, he looked at them. 

“I figured,” they continued, “That since Blackwatch was my home… and now I'm with Talon… being exiled from my home... is the most comforting thing for me right now… it's what I deserve… and at least I'm exiled before I betray them…”

He took a deep breath before he went back to cutting off their hair silently. The thick, matted curls fell to the ground bit by bit. They hadn’t always loved their hair- originally keeping it straightened or having a buzz cut- but after joining Blackwatch they decided to let it grow. After that they had always taken pride in their hair, kept it long. But those days were over, Blackwatch didn’t exist anymore. With each clump of hair that was cut off, their anxiety rose- every cut counting down to the start of their transformation into another Talon weapon. Before Blackwatch, they were nothing more than a weapon- Blackwatch was the first place they had been treated as a  _ human _ . And now, they were going to be nothing more than a weapon again- something they told themselves would never happen again.

“Gabí-” They choked out, “I’m scared… I- I don’t want to be made into a weapon again. I ca- I can- I can’t go back to that.. I can’t- I can’t… I can’t- IcantIcantIcant-”

Closing his eyes, he ran his finger through their dirty hair gently. He made a soft shushing sound as he cut off the last piece of hair.

“The more panicked you get, the higher your blood pressure gets, and the more you’ll bleed out. Deep breaths, you’re almost done.”

Shaking, they sobbed, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry I’m sorr- I’m sorry. I f- I fail- I failed y- I failed you, I f- I failed Blackwatch. D-don’t hate me p-please. I t- I tri- I tried to… it- it’s all my f- fault. Please don’t hate me I ca- I can’t- I never want- wanted to hurt y-you guys- m-my family. I’m sorry I’m s-sorry I’m sor-”

They were cut off when a needle was pressed into the side of their neck, eyelids drooping and shoulders slumping as the drug entered their system. Once the injection was done, he threw the syringe violently against the wall, and shadow-stepped out of the room without looking back at them. Seething with rage, he made his way to the roof of the base, rematerializing to sit quietly on it in the pitch black night. 

He couldn’t get the image of their broken form out of his head, or the fear in their voice. Never had he seen them so afraid and vulnerable- not even when he had met them when they were 14. Their lack of fear had gotten them into more trouble than most- it had always  _ angered  _ him, the way they were never afraid of death. The way they never showed fear even when they had been bleeding out and seconds from death. They had been taken hostage so many times and each time they would roll their eyes and sass their captor, hell, they had even taken pictures of themselves while hostage. There was no situation where they were they couldn’t find  _ some way  _ to make a sarcastic comment. Death to them was a minor inconvenience, if anything. But now… they were panicking and fearful and broken and utterly ruined.

Letting out a frustrated sigh, he pulled out a photo he had in his pocket. It had been taken a few years after Malik had officially joined Blackwatch. In the photo, everyone had been wearing their casual clothes. They were all sitting together in the commons, leaning and laying on eachother, laughing and smiling. Relaxed moments like those were uncommon- seeing everyone being so mundane and friendly was picture worthy. He remembered taking the photo, smiling at how normal and happy they looked. The photo had always made him smile- in times like those it was so easy to forget about their job. In the photo, they weren’t just top secret black ops agents doing dirty work, they were just friends- a family. Jesse, Lyuda, Malik, Mikael, Natalie, Idoya, Hayden, Kallista- 

Jaw clenching, he crumpled up the photo, claws tearing holes in it. Grabber his lighter, he lit the crumpled paper and dropped it on the ground, watching the flames eat away at the picture. He turned and left before it finished burning, leaving it to turn to ash alone.

Blackwatch was dead, and all of the agents gone. In the end, no one was any wiser, the world moved on. Nobody would even spare a passing thought about them- no one was alive to care about them now. They had lived in the shadows, and now they died in the shadows- and if anything, the world was happy to have them dead. Blackwatch would go down in history as a villain, all of his agents’ stories erased and left behind like their bodies. The ashes of the photo- like all their lives- would disappear like they never existed to begin with.

  
And only he would be left to remember.


End file.
